Criminal Minds: Paranormal
by sarcastically.spencer
Summary: 5 years after being rescued from an abandoned Asylum and a psychopathic murderer by the BAU, Acacia Araceli herself becomes a member of the team that once saved her from being tortured and murdered. Young, smart, and flexible Acacia brings with her to the BAU the ability that almost got her killed: Acacia Araceli can speak to the dead.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello there! To my dearest NCIS & Hunger Games readers: I'm so sorry I deleted my 2 fics! I just stopped writing them after a while and sort of got disconnected. It had been almost a year since I'd updated one of them! I began to lose interest in them and decided that my writing has improved since then as well, so I decided to start fresh. You can PM me any further concerns; please keep it off the review board. So without further ado, I bring you...**

**Criminal Minds: Paranormal**

_Please note that these are real places, but crimes and names are from my own imagination_

_I do not own Criminal Minds. Lol OBVI_

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><p><strong>*5 YEARS AGO: MANISTIQUE, MICHIGAN* <strong>

I wake up to a harsh light above me and a hard, cold surface beneath me. I brush my fingers across it. _Metal. _I blink my eyelids groggily, temporarily forgetting where I am.

And then I remember.

Panic begins to set it, and everything comes flooding back to me. I've been trapped in this Insane Asylum for who knows how long. Days, weeks, months? I haven't seen daylight in what seems like an eternity. Usually, I have my own cell, with a rickety old bed with a thin, worn mattress, a bucket for a toilet, a water bowl, and dirty white walls with nonsensical words and drawings etched in by previous patients. Once a day my captor would come in, dressed in his white full-body suit, bringing a platter full of mush for me to eat, but I'd never touch it. He would come and collect that plate later and _tsk _at me for leaving it cold and uneaten.

In my many hours spent alone, I would sit on my excuse for a bed and face the wall, listening to the other girls in the cells around me as they screamed, moaned, shuffled, and spoke to themselves. I didn't know how many others there were in this forsaken place. Once in a while, I hear one being dragged from their cells. I'd go to my door and peer through the little gated window. If they put up a fight, he tranquilizes them. Then they are loaded and strapped to a gurney and wheeled away. Three times they get taken away, but after the third time, they never return. I had rather not think about why they didn't.

I am no longer in my cell; I have been taken to a lab to be tested on. I begin to thrash against the metal table, but to no avail. My arms and legs and torso are bound with thick leather straps. A frustrated scream escapes my lips, and it is then I realize that I am not alone in the room. I turn my head and see a girl, strapped down like me. Her eyes are open, wide, haunted, but she is lifeless.

"Oh god," I whisper, horrified. Whatever tests he runs in here, it kills them. The first two they survive, but the third kills them.

"SOMEONE, HELP! GET ME OUT OF HERE!" I find myself screaming, but my words are absorbed into the walls, never to be heard. After a moment, I stop struggling, but I still refuse to come to terms with my fate. Suddenly, the girl next to me begins to convulse violently, and an awful gagging noise erupts from her throat. The metal table begins to shake beneath her seizures, and I can't do anything but watch with eyes wide and full of pure terror. Then, the door bursts open, and our captor rushes to her side. I have never seen his face. It remains hidden behind that space-like suit.

"No, no, you're done now, sweetie. I'm sorry. There was nothing we could do to fix you, that last test clearly didn't work, and now you're having seizures. It's better this way." he tells her, almost reassuringly. I am sickened by how he can rationalize this sort of twisted torture. He thinks he's _helping _us? We don't need to be helped. We aren't mentally ill. He's the psychopath!

After he speaks, her convulsions begin to subside, but she is still trembling greatly.

"They... will...find... you." she barely manages to threaten him, voice raspy and distorted. He merely laughs, and she begins to convulse again, this time with an ear-piercing shriek. Out of nowhere, he takes out a large syringe full of a foreign liquid and plunges it into her neck. Immediately she settles, still quivering, head turning towards me. She offers me a smile, and then I watch the lights dwindle from her crazed eyes and her body go limp.

Cue panic-induced adrenaline. "Oh god, what did you do to her?" I yell at him, but my voice wavers. I am not given a reply as he wheels her out of the lab.

"YOU COWARD!" I scream after him, even after the door closes and there is no one left to hear me. "YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH THIS!"

Hours later, he finally returns to the lab, where I have since calmed down but have not fully recovered from witnessing the girl's seizure episode and then her murder by lethal injection. Yet I am more angry than fearful.

"Now then, Acacia, is it? May I call you Audrey?" he says upon his arrival.

"This is hardly a time for formalities." I hiss, staring daggers at him, though I cannot see his face.

"Fine, have it your way. Now before we begin your first test, I'd like to ask you a few questions. I need to understand your condition first."

"My _condition?_" I ask in disbelief. Here stands my kidnapper and future murderer, and yet here he is, asking me questions like he's a therapist and I'm his freaking _psych ward patient?_

"Acacia," he says impatiently, and I hate that he calls me by name, like he knows me, "please do your best to cooperate, okay? Let's make this easier for both of us." When I say nothing, he continues. "I'd just like to let you know that you should consider yourself lucky. It's not easy being mentally incapacitated," I seethe as he says this, "and that's why I've brought you here. Do you understand that your condition can be a danger to other people? That's why I'm here, to help realign those wires in your brain."

"First of all, I'm not insane," I tell him, "and this 'condition' you tell me about is an _ability. _Okay? I'm not a psychopath." You are.

"They all say that, but there's something...abnormal about those who I've selected. And unfortunately, the third test leaves them unstable, proving that they cannot be fixed. So when I come to that conclusion, I have to nullify them. It's better that way, don't you see? Then they are no longer a danger to themselves, or to other people. So then tell me about your so-called 'ability', Audrey." he explains to me, as if this is some sort of heroic duty he is obliged to fulfill.

I stare at him coldly, and he waits expectantly. "Fine." I spit. "I can communicate with those who have...passed on."

"This I know. Please, tell me in detail, when and why do you supposedly come to interact with the deceased?"

I glare at him again, not overlooking his little remark about me 'supposedly' interacting with the deceased. My lips form a tight line. I refuse to speak any more.

"No? Okay. Let's begin our first test." he says, a little to quickly, and I can sense I have worn his patience too thin. He whips out some sort of medical probe, and not the safety-scissor kind. My pulse quickens and the fear begins to set in.

"No, no, stop," I growl, squirming and struggling against the table and my binds. "LET ME GO!"

Just before the poking and prodding and probing begins, the door bursts open, revealing a young woman and man, both wielding a gun. I am startled at first, but then overcome with relief when I see their bulletproof vests: FBI.

"Jeremy Whit, put the probe down," the woman commands boldly, stance firm and unwavering. Swiftly, he poises the sharp end of the probe above my throat.

"You interrupted my tests." he says, seeming offended. "Now I have no choice."

"Of course you have a choice," the woman tells him gently, but she keeps her gun trained on him. "Remember your brother, Jeremy."

"I am doing this for _him." _my captor - Jeremy - says, and his voice cracks. "She's mental! Look at her! All of them, they were insane! And I tried, oh I tried, to fix them, so they wouldn't hurt anyone like that psychopath killed my brother, but none of my tests _worked_! They can't be helped."

"Jeremy," the male agent speaks up, "these people you've taken are not mentally ill, nor are they psychopathic. They are everyday people, just like you and me, but they just have different abilities." See? It _is _an ability. Thank you, finally!

"No," he says, and raises the probe, ready to force it through my neck. Simultaneously, Jeremy begins to plunge the tool towards me, a panicked scream escapes my lips, and a gunshot rings out loudly, echoing in my head.

I open my eyes and let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding in. I was alive, and dead on the floor was Jeremy, probe still in hand.

"Oh my god," I breathe out, "please get me out of here." The woman rushes to my side and begins to unbind me.

"It's okay Acacia, we're taking you to a hospital now. Are there others?"

"Yes," I answer shakily, allowing her to help me off of the table, "in the other Asylum cells. Some are dead."

"Thank you," she tells me, "let's get you out of here."

And I am free.

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><p><strong>AN: Soooo? Whaddya think? (: REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW **

**Let's aim for 5? Thank you if you're reading this wow it means so much to me **

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**Bailey Baee :***


	2. Chapter I

**A/N: HELLO THERE! So this is my freaking 3rd time trying to write this chapter because my computer decides to shut down randomly and it makes me very annoyed :D HAHA YAY! **

**Okaay. Sorry, I had a mental breakdown...**

**Anyways! Thank you for reads+reviews! Keep 'em going! **

_Lol I _wished _I owned Criminal Minds (but I don't). Please note that all chapters take place from Acacia Araceli's POV, unless specified otherwise._

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><p><strong>*Present Day, December*<strong>

I inhale and exhale in a vain attempt to steady my nerves and smooth out my dress, a nervous habit I've had since forever. With every second that brings their arrival closer, my heart rate increases an unhealthy amount. It's really unnerving knowing that at any moment, seven FBI agents - sorry, 6 agents and a doctor- will be arriving at my doorstep.

Okay, let me rephrase that.

Because I recently joined the BAU, I decided to invite the team over for dinner and some drinks, hence my rapid pulse and the surfacing subconscious nervous habits.

In my full-length mirror, I double check myself, making sure my hair and makeup is in tact. Check. Is my outfit okay? I peer down and examine tonight's outfit choice, a black dress with a skater-style skirt, sweetheart neckline, and full-length lace sleeves. I paired it with my favourite suede pumps, which are a deep wine-red colour with straps that criss-cross over my foot and have a single strap around my ankle. I hope this looks more like a cocktail dress than a 16-year-old-girl-at-a-frat-party-dress. I shudder as a brief memory of 16-year-old me in that frat party dress flashes in my mind.

Fact #1: I may have had _quite_ the reputation in my teenage years...

_We do _not _think__ about high school, Acacia_, _you've come a long way since then, _I think firmly as I pour myself a glass of wine.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and I nearly crush my glass of wine before scrambling over to the front door. A deep, cleansing and calming breath is taken before I open the door to greet my guests.

"Hey! Come on in!" I say warmly to JJ, Prentiss, Reid, and Rossi. "You guys look great."

"Thanks, Acacia, you too." JJ tells me warmly, and relief washes over me; my outfit is okay. "The rest of the team should be here soon."

"It smells wonderful in here," Rossi tells me, "is that Chicken Piccata?"

"You caught me," I say playfully, putting my hands up in surrender, "hope everyone likes Italian."

"My favorite." he says.

Just then, the doorbell rings again, revealing the remaining members of the team; Hotch, Morgan, and Garcia.

"Well, well! Look who showed up!" I tease them, surprised by my own sudden boldness. "Hope you're ready for some wine."

"I brought the Merlot," Garcia pipes up, displaying a bottle of Kendall-Jackson, "2011 Vinter's Reserve."

"Perfect," I grin, "come on in."

As intimidating as it sounds, I now have the BAU around my dining room table, eating my home-cooked Chicken Piccata. But it's not as nerve-wracking as I expected it to be. We laugh and talk and they roll their eyes when Reid gives a lengthy, scientific or historical definition of something, but I don't. I find his long-winded knowledge interesting, actually, and that's why after dinner is over, he talks to me while the rest of the team chats amongst themselves, and I sip from my wine and listen. I find it flattering, actually, that he is enjoying talking to me, too, though it could simply be because no one else will listen.

"Christmas trees actually date back to the sixteenth or even fifteenth century, and they were usually put up around churches and were decorated with things you could eat, like nuts and apples," Reid is telling me as we stand by my own Christmas tree, a tall, lean, slightly sparse yet not too barren, noble fir tree, decorated with glimmering white lights and red, gold, and silver vintage-style ornaments that once belonged to my grandmother.

"Is he boring you to death?" comes JJ's voice from beside me, and Spencer's stream of words slow down until they come to a stop.

"No, he's fine," I tell her honestly, "just giving me a run-down of the history of the Christmas tree." I shoot him a glance and see him smiling sheepishly at JJ.

"We were just admiring it, actually," she tells me, "it looks really nice."

"Thanks," I say, "the Holidays are my favourite time of the year."

"Mine too," she says, sipping from her glass, "and my son's. His wishlist is a mile long." We laugh at this briefly.

"You have a son?" I ask her. I've always wanted kids, but I've never had much luck with...well, the male species. I try to ignore the knot forming in my stomach as my mind automatically recounts what happened in that Asylum 5 years ago. I shake off the feeling quickly, asking, "What's his name?"

"Henry," JJ tells me, and I can see her face light up as she speaks his name, lips spreading into a warm smile. "His name is Henry."

"That's the cutest name," I compliment her, "I'm sure he's adorable."

She smiles a 'thanks' in response.

"Do you have any kids?" I ask Reid, realizing that the only thing I've really learned about him is his mind full of boundless knowledge.

"No," he answers, almost melancholic, "but I would like to, one day."

"Reid lacks a little on the romance department," JJ fills me in with a wink.

I lift up my glass and tilt it towards him slightly as if to say, "amen to that". I haven't dated anyone since high school, and just by the way, I don't really count the time I spent with those boyfriends as 'relationships'.

Suddenly, a phone rings from across the living room and into the kitchen. The whole house silences, except for the music humming quietly in the background.

"Hello?" Hotch answer in his serious voice. "Yes, I understand." Pause. "Okay."

We all look at him broodingly, already knowing what he would say before the words left his lips.

"We have to go, team," he says, "there's a case."

Well. Leave it to the BAU to abruptly leave a dinner party.

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><p><strong>Hello there darlings 3<strong>

**Lol it's funny cuz there's only like 5 of you sooo...**

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